Fate Transposed Phantasmagoria
by FantaisieNocturne
Summary: The Sixth Heaven's Feel - over one hundred years after the fifth Heaven's Feel, the Holy Grail War, despite the collapse of the Great Grail, begins again. Note: No characters carry over from the original Fate series. Characters from multiple fandoms.
1. Aria of the Summoning

**Author's Note: **This project is proving to be a great undertaking. Your reviews are much appreciated. See if you can guess the crossovers at future points.

* * *

It was to have ended with the Fifth Heaven's Feel. The Einzberns had declared the collapse of the Great Grail, and the future of the Heaven's Feel was to only have its place in legend.

Indeed, without the wishing machine, there should have been no Heaven's Feel. And without Heaven's Feel, there would be no Sixth Holy Grail War.

Heaven's Feel had not occurred for over one hundred years. The Holy Grail had not elected seven Masters, and it had not summoned seven Servants in the massive melee that was the Holy Grail War. Fuyuki City was no longer on the radar of any magus worth his salt.

Yet here, on his arm, were definitely three Command Seals. Those hallowed miracles, the three magical tattoos that would grant a magus the capability to summon a Servant – a Heroic Spirit, legends of the past, present and future, brought into the world to do battle with others like them for the hallowed wish-granting power of the Grail.

He had searched various sources for any similar-looking patterns - maybe a unique manifestation of Magic Circuits, or perhaps a bad bout of rather creative cancer - but the only thing he had kept coming back to was that these things on his hand were Command Seals.

He had consulted with the head of the Kansai Magic Association, the leader with which his family was on good terms with, and he had said that the tattoos on his hand were indeed, no doubt about it, the mark made by the Grail.

He had finally resorted to researching more about the Holy Grail War – finding out exactly what had transpired, what happened, how the Great Grail had collapsed, and whether there had been any plans to resurrect Heaven's Feel – but still drew a blank.

Finally, he had had no choice but to find it out for himself. The Aria of Summoning in this case also served as a litmus test. If the Command Seals on his left hand were authentic, then a Servant would undoubtedly appear.

Shaking slightly with nervousness, he drew the Servant summoning circle in the centre of his living room. Grasping one of the rabbits he had bought from a neighbour by the ears, he made a cut near its hind leg, letting its blood drip slowly in the centre of the ring. Next, his own blood – a vial that hung around his neck, drawn seven weeks earlier, this he took and slowly spilled its contents onto the floor.

Participation in the Heaven's Feel - such a great privilege was usually reserved for magi of noble blood, like the Einzberns or the Tohsakas – yet he, Kishimoto Kayuki, had obtained it. The Grail had chosen him, a mixed-blood magus of low social ranking, as one of the seven Masters. It was giving him a chance to prove himself.

Finally – the preparations were complete. The actual summoning ritual was at hand.

The catalyst was a small, round Yin-Yang orb pendant that had been passed down through his father's line for years. It had been found in a derelict shrine on one of his ancestor's journeys through the countryside of Japan, and now it had taken on status as a family heirloom. Its capability as a Mystic Code was much higher than anything else he had – and as a result, he was now using it as an amplifier to augment his relatively small mana capacity.

" – **Set.**

**Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy blade."**

Unlike the Einzberns and Tohsakas, however, he had no vast network of connections to assure him a powerful Servant. Which was why he had to depend on his luck – that his personality would allow him to summon a Heroic Spirit of great standing, one similar to King Arthur, or even the ancient Greek heroes like Achilles or Hector.

"**If thou submitteth to the call of the Holy Grail, and if thou wilt obey this mind, this reason, then thou shalt respond." **

Which Heroic Spirit was to be his Servant, then, was now all down to his personality and his luck. The pendant held in his palm was glowing slightly, vibrating with the sheer amount of prana flowing through it. Kayuki felt the Kishimoto family crest on his right thigh start to consume prana as well, the magic pulsing through his legs with a disconcerting regularity as the crest started to synchronise with the magic circle on the floor.

" – **I make my oath here. I am that person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven. I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hell." **

This was the moment of truth. The pendant was now burning with frightening intensity. Kayuki felt his twelve Magic Circuits max out, sending a surge of pain through his body. He grit his teeth, hardening his will even as his entire body started to break out in cold sweat.

"**Thine holy spirit, clad in a trinity of words, come past thee restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance – !"**

For a moment, there was nothing. Then the rapidly pulsing chalk lines on the ground suddenly exploded into brilliance. Kayuki felt the stress of prana consumption suddenly disappear from his body, and fell unceremoniously onto his bum, his legs devoid of strength, shielding his eyes from the sudden burst of light.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the light faded into nothingness. Kayuki slowly lowered his hands from his eyes.

The centre room was in chaos. A huge cloud of chalk dust and smoke hung in the air, choking the air from Kayuki's lungs. He crawled out of the centre of the ring; the smell of vaporized blood lingered in the air, a nauseating stench he wanted to avoid as much of as he could. Through the corner of his eyes, he spied the rabbit he had used as a sacrifice, turned inside out by the power of the summoning ritual. Its intestines, lungs, heart, were all completely white; all the blood had been sucked out of it the instant he had started.

Propping himself up weakly against a nearby shelf, he turned back to look into the mess. The dust was already clearing. Already, he could see the silhouettes of his Servant -

– his mouth fell open. For there was not one, but two separate entities emerging from the dust cloud.

That wasn't right. He instinctively checked his left hand. No doubt, there were only three Command Seals – he should only have had summoned one Heroic Spirit.

Kayuki could only watch in silence as his three Seals slowly but surely split down the middle.

"I ask of you, are you the Master that summoned me?"

"And you the Master that summoned me?"

Kayuki was reminded once again of the presence of his two Servants. He looked up at the both of them, and slowly nodded.

Two Servants – that was something other magi could only dream of. That, however, wasn't what he was concerned with. What he hadn't counted on was his Servants looking no older than fifteen years of age.

The first of the two to speak had taken a seat in front of Kayuki and had shut her eyes, an image of serenity. She was dressed in an outfit he had never seen before – but it reminded him of ancient Oriental garb, especially those the shrine maidens at his local Shinto shrine wore. And it was overwhelmingly red.

The second of the two was now leaning against his console table, looking with interest at his various magical objects, lined up as display pieces. Her outfit was noticeably modern Victorian – what with its liberal use of frills and black, and the various buttons and implements that was reminiscent of America immediately after the Second World War. What was of notice, though, was the huge hat on her head – a witch's black pointy hat.

Kayuki was enthralled. These were Heroic Spirits that he had never even heard of. What surprised him was how _ordinary _they looked – they would not stand out at all. Given a change of clothes, they could fit right into a crowd and not give away their presence.

Perfect. At least he didn't have to worry about his friends talking about how he was cosying up to some foreigner.

Then again, if he had summoned Heroic Spirits that no one knew, did that not mean they would be ruthlessly outclassed by those that were well-known for their famous exploits?

As if reading his mind, the red Servant spoke. "You most likely have no idea who we are, as should be the case. However, we were still summoned by you, because the Yin-Yang pendant you used is inextricably linked to the both of us."

Her eyes fluttered open. Kayuki was struck by the quiet determination that shone within them. She stretched an arm out.

"From now on, we will be in your care as your Servants."

"Please take good care of us." The black Servant tipped her hat slightly.

Kayuki took the red Servant's hand and shook it. This seemed more like a contractual agreement than a Master-Servant relationship, but hey, if it made them happy, why not?

"One question, though – who are you two, really?"

The red Servant smiled slightly, then answered.

"We are both Servant Caster. Please address us as such."


	2. The First Battle

Finally, an update after so long!

This one isn't a very long one. The next one will be fun.

Been busy with schoolwork – the next chapter might take a while.

Enjoy and review!

EDIT: Deleted the previous one because I forgot line breaks. Thanks for the heads up, Quizer.

* * *

Different as night and day.

Yep, that summed it up.

Kayuki leaned back on his arms, letting his eyes survey the rather normal domestic scene in front of him – apart from the outlandish getup of his Servants.

The red-white miko was cooking in the kitchen; the black-white witch was rapidly depleting his precious supply of rice crackers. While the red-white arranged the household taxes, the black-white was busy giving the TV a much-needed workout.

Two Servants, one Master – whoever had heard of it?

Kayuki had been struggling to find some information, any information, regarding the strange phenomena he had been pulled into.

There had been exceptions, of course. There was Assassin, who could split into a thousand bodies, and various Noble Phantasms that allowed their respective Heroic Spirits to summon other Heroic Spirits –

- but never had there been one of such great magnitude, and of such individuality. The two were as different as night and day.

Yes, different as night and day.

Well, as long as they could fight as well as they should, any amount of rice crackers would be a worthwhile investment.

"- Kayuki."

His eyes flew open. When had they closed in the first place?

The two Casters were standing over him, their faces betraying grave intensity. He felt a cold sweat break out, his heart pounding in his chest as he sat up in a jolt, his mind running into overdrive. He feared for the worst – a Master had discovered him – or worse, a Servant – and was now coming to attack when he was least prepared. He tried to remember his incantations, his magic, the various skills he had learned at the Magi Academy, but his memory was failing him –

"It's time to eat."

* * *

The stage was set. All the players were in. The Command Seals had all appeared, the catalysts were ready.

Throughout the great city, incantations rang out, some majestic and grand, others quiet and secretive. And as the incantations resonated, so did the salt of the earth, prana coursing through its veins to feed the Magic Circuits of these selected magi.

The Seventh Holy Grail War was well on its way. As the clouds of magic-saturated smoke faded into obscurity, one could hear voices, the great voices of Heroic Spirits, uttering the final words of the contract:

"I ask of you, are you my Master?"

The atmosphere in the house had suddenly grown tense.

Both Casters had stopped eating almost simultaneously. The bowls of rice, half-eaten, lay forlornly forgotten, abandoned by their masters.

"There's a Servant coming. We've got to get out. Move to open air."

Kayuki could barely respond to this curt remark before he found himself being pulled out of the house by the black-white Caster. The red-white had long since disappeared. He watched as his rice bowl teetered, then dropped off the edge of the table, landing bottom-up on the kitchen floor. He cursed slightly under his breath.

"Not a sound. The enemy… hold on tight."

Kayuki was only too happy to oblige when he found himself suddenly hurtling through the sky, supported by thin air.

"You… you fly?"

"Why, yes, we both do. And since you don't, I'll have to carry you until you learn to do so. It's a lot faster than running around."

Kayuki was in the right mind to retort when Caster came to a sudden halt. The other Caster was there as well, floating with her eyes trained intensely to the west.

"He's coming. Servant Rider."

Caster dropped him off on the roof of a building nearby. He uttered a few incantations to mask his presence, then stood and watched.

Servant-Servant battles were always extremely dangerous, more so than between their Masters. Oftentimes, it was a spectacle to behold; however, nothing could have prepared him for what came next.

Rider sped in on a flying vehicle; its form was not immediately noticeable, but after careful observation, Kayuki determined it to be one of the Self-Defense Force's decommissioned F-35s used for pilot training. The missiles had been removed entirely from the plane.

Normally, it yielded almost zero danger for the F-56s of the current generation, with their advanced aeronautical computers, thrust vectoring and hypersonic flight capabilities.

The F-35's thrust nozzle rotated, pulling the plane into a steady hover several hundred meters from his two Servants. The silence in the night, punctuated by the steady stream of exhaust from the hovering craft, was overbearing.

Both Casters and Rider silently affirmed each other, floating as they were within the night sky.

Nearby, a construction crane lit up. That was the cue.

Rider cut the thrust to the plane, dropping it into a steep dive, pulling it up barely a dozen feet off the ground. Where he had been before, a flurry of paper sheets shot by the red-white Caster sped through the air, missing entirely. The two Casters split up, spreading at speed across the night sky.

The game was on.

* * *

A brief hiss of wind, a silhouette briefly seen under a streetlamp.

A flash of black hair and the white of bandages.

The Servant known as Assassin sped through the streets, his silent footfalls swift and planted with delicate accuracy – a car roof here, a window ledge there – all the time undetected, soundless in his swift retreat.

There was news to report. He shifted into spirit form – it was slower, but it also consumed less prana. Now that he was out of the immediate danger zone, where one of those charms filled with ghost-exorcising runes could have killed him, it was better.

The mansion loomed into view. Assassin bounded swiftly over the gate, and in one step was on the second storey balcony.

There, looking out over the darkened landscape of the nearby hills, was his Master, Kokutou Daisuke.

The catalyst used for the summoning had been a small, ornate knife that had been passed down through his family from a generation already forgotten. However, even without the knife, Daisuke was sure he would have gotten the same result.

Their penchant for observing from the shadows was so similar it was uncanny.

"Two Casters are fighting Rider as I speak. It appears one of the Masters somehow managed to summon two Servants at once."

Daisuke clicked his tongue. Those two would be a problem; best to let the rest of the Masters handle them. He could mop up later.

"Go, Assassin. Inform the Masters of Saber and Lancer about the situation. It took me a while to get in contact with them and in their good books; now is the time I make use of them."

The Servant bowed, then disappeared. Information relayed by foot was still the most secure method – for all the hype about 640-bit encryptions, the Internet lines still got tapped at least six times a day.

Daisuke pulled a stick out of his pocket, put it between his lips and chewed on it. The familiar taste of cinnamon filled his mouth.

He would have to wait.

Waiting was his specialty.

* * *

I got lazy -.-

The Servant list is complete - took me a while to get all of them fleshed out, but I have (:

Good luck guessing who they are before it's revealed ^^


	3. Flights of Fancy

An update after like, three months!

Introducing new Masters and Servants!

* * *

Watching the battle was like watching three swallows in flight.

The trio swooped and dived, weaving into and out of each other, the brief flares of guns and magic bright against the inky darkness of the night sky.

The two Casters, despite their considerable flying prowess, were hard pressed to catch the slippery Rider. The ailerons of the F-35 flashed in the glare of the lights from the ground, the throttle changing several times a second – flying a risky line between the skyscrapers of Fuyuki city. The roar of the jets drowned out all sound, turning heads to the sky – and forcing the Casters into the shadows.

It was a brilliant move – albeit one that required an inordinate amount of skill to execute. Rider obviously had it. The exhaust of his outdated jet glowed purple, the roar of the single afterburning Pratt & Whitney turbofan rattling dozens of windows with his every turn. The Casters, attempting to avoid detection by ordinary people, had no choice but to shadow-hop, flitting quickly among the rooftops as they attempted to chase the aircraft down.

But still, he could not shake them. Every time he emerged from a labyrinth of vertical walls into brief darkness, there they would be – right behind him.

And the dance would start all over again.

Five. Ten. Fifteen minutes. The battle was locked in a dead mate – the two Casters trying to pin the agile Rider in his element, and Rider trying to mark the Casters in his sights.

It was at one of these points that the unexpected suddenly happened.

A shot pinged off the black Caster's magic armor.

A brief flare – this time, not from another missed shot, but from the unmistakable dull buzz of kinetic impact on magic barrier. The black Caster, temporarily shocked, glanced back for a fifth of a second. The red Caster, sensing her partner's dismay, took her eyes off Rider for a tenth.

That was all he needed.

The figure in the cockpit muttered lightly under his breath.

Almost instantly, the two Casters found themselves surrounded – not by an overwhelming force of numbers, but by a _single enemy_. The instant they had let him leave their field of vision was the instant he had transformed – and his guns were now pointed square at them.

* * *

The dull, distant sound of repeating guns filled the air.

Kayuki had long since lost sight of the three – but he had lost his senses since the battle had started.

His mouth was gaping in open wonder. The start of the battle had been brilliant – and the rest of it nothing short of amazing.

_So this… this is a battle of Heroic Spirits._

A spectacle of flawless beauty. It was like watching mythical monsters – no, even that wouldn't cut it, **forces of nature** – do battle. It was like – like –

"Kayuki! Heads up!" the red Caster's voice hit him like a brick.

"Eh?"

A sudden gust of wind blew by him – and suddenly, he was the wind itself.

The ground, once again, was somewhere where his feet weren't.

"What the h- ARRRRGH!"

"We gotta move quick, like the whole city's probably seen that. I bet they're scrambling the entire Air Force about now."

"But couldn't you handle them?"

"Well, we could, but you sure you want us to?"

Kayuki had a brief, fleeting vision of flaming wrecks of dozens of aircraft littering the ruined landscape of Fuyuki City.

"Uh, I guess not."

At that moment, he felt a small knot of wind push gently into his back – and his arms, held tightly by the black Caster, rotated in a way rather humanly impossible.

"Oh, snap."

* * *

The light sound of waves from the sea lapping against the shore came echoing from below. A seagull cried forlornly from the east.

Servant Archer, lying prone on the roof of the Mishima Inc. skyscraper, took that as his cue to remove himself from his spot on the ground and begin packing up his rifle.

"How is it?"

Archer's Master, Ophelia West, was standing over him, her mouth wrapped around a cigarette. She took it out and flicked it to the ground, grinding it with the heel of her boot. The stick faded out.

"The battle's over. I hit one of the Casters, and Rider escaped from there."

"Good work. Did you manage to identify Rider? I believe he used his Noble Phantasm."

"No. He was too fast. No doubt trying to escape while concealing his identity."

"Well, no matter. It's still better this way. The way things were going, Rider was probably going to end up fried. The more enemies we have in the game, the better for us – since no one's going to care that one little Servant's always missing when you don't need him."

Archer silently affirmed her statement as he checked his rifle's scope. His skill, Sniping, allowed him to make use of any form of ranged weapon against the enemy – including missiles, tank cannons and other miscellaneous ballistic weapons. But those were hard to get. Rifles, on the other hand, were comparatively easy.

"Rider's the only one who can keep the Casters occupied like that. If he were to lose early, the Casters would sweep the game with their tag-teaming and crazy firepower."

"We can't let that happen."

"Indeed, we cannot. So we'll just keep supporting from the shadows and make sure they go down quickly. The rest should be easier from there."

West turned her eyes back to her Servant. A man in the prime of his youth, dressed in a casual turtleneck and jeans – no way would anyone believe this person was one of the most acclaimed heroes of his time. But he was – and a bloody good shot at that. She turned her eyes back to the twinkling lights that lay on the horizon – the light of dozens of skyscrapers flashing against the night sky.

"Well, that's that. Let's go home."

* * *

The Einzbern mansion in Fuyuki City, a vast tract of land given solely to a large building and its grounds – and uninhabited for almost a century. When the previous occupant, Illyasviel von Einzbern, had died, the land's ownership rights had gone into limbo, and had remained in that state for a long time.

Not anymore.

It was toward this mansion that the F-35, barely surviving on the last remaining fumes in its tank, sped with due haste.

Rider swiftly maneuvered the craft toward a long, flat lawn of grass, pointing the exhaust nozzle at the ground and quickly slowing the plane in a deft low-altitude pseudo-Cobra maneuver just before he touched down.

The grass burned in his wake from the heat of the turbofan. As the plane slowed to a stop, the cockpit swung open, and a single woman tumbled out from the back of the small double-seater, collapsing on the ground, her breath caught in a violent display of coughing fits. Another man – Rider – jumped out of his seat, and deftly landed beside the lady.

"God, Rider, are you trying to kill me again?!"

"Not at all, Erusviel. If I hadn't landed as I had, there would not only have been not enough field to land, the plane would have disappeared in a great big ball of flame as well. Which is a pity, really – this is really rather a good one."

The lady straightened up slightly, her face still lined with disgust at the behaviour of her Servant.

Her face was beautiful, and her long silky hair a pale white. She would have drawn many suitors – if not for her deep, blood-red eyes.

Erusviel von Einzbern was her name – the latest of the Einzbern family, sent once again to claim the Holy Grail, in the hopes of them once again regaining the power of the Third Magic. Illyasviel had come close – but that one had failed as well. Even if this Holy Grail War was an anomaly, it was still their greatest chance of success.

All this mattered not to Erusviel as she stared at Rider with a childish pout on her face.

"You never listen to me!"

"Now, now, my dear Master, I was merely testing them out. Surely when I hear that two Casters who can fly have been summoned, I could barely sit here and twiddle my thumbs, could I not?" Rider's retort was smooth, quilted by his delicate delivery. It did little to calm Erusviel.

"And almost got us killed in the process?"

"I did underestimate them slightly. But hey, we're safe now, right?"

"Still not forgiving you." Erusviel turned away with a little 'hmph' under her breath.

The Servant furrowed his brows. His face was one of the kind that few women could resist; along with his dashing golden crop of hair and the broad figure of a man in his prime, admirers were something he was plenty used to. So finding a woman – no, a girl – who treated him as nothing more than a platonic friend took some getting used to.

And that friendship was being threatened as well. She was the one female he couldn't dump, because like it or not, she was the reason for his current existence.

No choice for it – he had to take the humble pill.

"Alright, I apologise. It's my fault. I won't do it again, okay?"

"Promise?" She pouted in his general direction.

"Fine. I promise."

"Yay!" Erusviel's face temporarily shifted into an innocent smile – then her eyes narrowed and her expression hardened. "From now on, these things should be done only with the Master's explicit consent. Under no circumstances should you perform tasks on your own accord. Is this clear?"

Rider sighed heavily. "Yes, my Master."

"So, why did you do it?"

"What?"

"Steal the plane and, you know, fight them."

"I was bored. I needed to get back behind a control stick to really find myself again. Planes now are pretty cool, too – radar lock and heads-up display and all that jazz."

An awkward silence fell between them. Taking this as his cue, Rider turned to go.

"Wait."

He stopped. The next question lingered in the air.

"Just now, you used your Noble Phantasm. I heard it. Could you be…?"

He smiled slightly, his face obscured in the shadow cast by the moon. He turned back to face her.

"Yes. Servant Rider, Hans-Joachim Marseille, at your service."

* * *

And that marks the end of Chapter 3. This fic might take a while yet.

Thanks for reading!


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